Synthetic Aspiration
by rizahawkeyed
Summary: Greed, under the alias of Private Roy Mustang of the Amestrian military, has had enough of taking a back burner to his Father's needs. With more aspirations than common sense, he sets out with unexpected company to make a better world, at least for himself.


They only gather once a year before their Father. It is a brief meeting, always; they only converse to hear about any progress in the plan and to get new instructions. Something this big moves slowly and takes master planning.

And Greed has never been patient.

He fiddles with his gloves, hardly paying attention to Father's words. He hears a few choice statements about 'drawing', but it might have been 'thawing', until the mumbling stops and Envy hits him hard across the jaw.

"Pay attention, idiot."

Greed's eyes slip up to his Father's face and he smiles.

"Sorry, dad."

"What have you been doing for the cause, Greed?"

He straightens himself up and gives a look at all of his brothers and sisters before clearing his throat.

"I've spent the last year and a half gaining the trust of the military and rising in their ranks. Most of them trust me at this point, or at least don't suspect me of anything. Once I gain enough-"

"We have Bradley as Fuhrer. Why would we need this?"

"It's important to have someone to gain the trust of the people from their level, Father," Pride cuts in with eyes aimed at the ground.

It catches him off guard, but he says nothing. There's no harm in letting someone else take a bit of the heat for a moment. He expels a breath and watches the heavy glare pull from him like bricks lifted from his shoulders to land on the petite blonde that is always, always beside Father. But he says nothing to her, only nods. The others murmur their quips, but the meeting is over now, he's sure.

"Greed," Father states as bland as white bread. "I asked you to light fires and start chaos on the borders. I didn't ask you to infiltrate the military. This time, do what I ask."

—

It's hours before he decides to abandon them. Father has told him time and time again that every Greed before him and every Greed after him will rebel simply by nature, but he can't help it. Initiating chaos is a job suited for someone without aspirations and goals. It's a job for someone who can follow without hesitation, but Greed has never been a child with such talent.

He has no belongings and no extra clothes. Greed simply secures his white gloves that hide his tattoo against the skin of his hands and ducks out the back. He's been sent away, after all.

But he hears her almost immediately.

She's quiet, apparently every Pride is, but he's used to hearing her behind him. Usually he finds the company somewhat pleasant, but for once, he wishes she'd disappear like he plans to.

"Shouldn't your allegiance go to Father? You don't have any business following me, unless you have a deathwish."

"You won't kill me, Greed," she says, flat as stone. It is always her prideful nature that catches him off guard. It's far more subtle than one would expect in the human embodiment of Pride, but he shrugs.

"I won't, but Father will when he finds you. He expects rebellion from me, but you're supposed to be the loyal one."

She smiles softly, tying her wheat-blonde locks up into a tail. Her striking features stand out in the dim lighting and he remembers all the times she's defended him.

"I am the loyal one. I'm choosing to be loyal to you."

"Choosing _what?_" he asks with a snort. Her deep brown eyes smother him with sincerity and he nearly chokes. Greed doesn't have followers and Greed doesn't have friends. It's the one sin every man and women seems more than eager to expel because it's insatiable. It's a wild hunger, gnawing at the insides of their souls and intolerant of idleness.

No one follows a plague.

When she doesn't answer, Greed straightens himself out and regains his composure. The sun is soft and white and wind glides up and over bright green grass. The scene is almost so gorgeous it's distracting, and he forces himself to stay focused on his newest problem.

"Can I ask why?"

She's been a good friend to him, or at least better than the others. It doesn't change what she is and the nature she's been born with.

"Because I don't liking be inconsequential, and because I believe you," she says with softness that rivals the subtle sweeping of the wind around them.

Inconsequential. He supposes that's what they all are. When one Greed rebels, another is quick to follow. It's a cycle. When Father loses a child, he replaces them without blinking. Hardly a functional family, Greed thinks with a sneer.

"Roy is what I've been calling myself out there, so that's what you'll need to call me. Watch my back and make sure we're not followed and don't slip up, because I've already got my name built up."

He feels the words like ice slipping from his lips until they're numb and he wants to shake his head. There's no reason to let her follow and it's a risk he doesn't want to take, but there's one of those gut feelings he's not supposed to have telling him differently.

"I killed a woman once who didn't ask for her life. She asked me for my name and I gave it to her and she gave me hers in return and asked me to remember it," Pride begins with her gaze unwavering. "I suppose she wanted to be immortal like us. She wanted to mean something like we do. Either way, I did remember her name."

Greed nods, imagining Pride's cold, dead eyes on this equally stone-cold woman. He shudders with the thought that he's never shared a moment like that with a victim, but Pride's story continues.

"Riza. That's what I'll be called."

Greed dips his head and tastes the name. It is soft with the bitter taste of coffee and dark chocolate and he thinks maybe he can taste what that woman once was.

"Alright, _Riza_, let's head out then."


End file.
